


archilles, come down

by elle_schuyler



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, But No Actual Suicide, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicidal Thoughts, Tommy isn’t actually dead, but Tubbo thinks he is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:41:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28124775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elle_schuyler/pseuds/elle_schuyler
Summary: it’s raining at logstedshire. tubbo’s tears are barely visible in the downpour
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Kudos: 41





	archilles, come down

**Author's Note:**

> So I’ve never written something like this. I’m just in a weird place and this narrative gives me a lot of ideas.

“archilles, come down”

///

Tubbo headed back into L’Manberg to avoid the betrayed look on Tommy’s face.

At the time, exile seemed like the only option. The smart choice. And in some way, it had been.

But a heavy pang in his chest said otherwise.

Tubbo tried to throw himself into work. There’s a lot of it, being the president. Always something to fix, issus to be discussing, plans to be made. But little things made it impossible to keep himself on task.

Anti-Technoblade propaganda was the kind of terrible idea Tommy would get behind. He would put up one or two signs before passing off the job to whoever he could, laughing and pushing things too far, but… never with the intention of hurting anyone.

Tubbo flattened each poster to the wall and tried not to think about it, but he did.

Then Ghostbur gifted Tubbo the compass.

Tubbo tried to keep it as close as possible, eyes drifting to the twitching needle whenever he talked with anyone. There’d be times before bed he’d just tilt it in his hands, wondering if Tommy did the same. Not that he could ask.

Tommy hated him now.

When that compass blew up all Tubbo could do was take a shaky breath, blinking until his eyes stopped stinging. He couldn’t cry in front of his people. What kind of president would that make him?

What kind of president exiled his best friend?

He shut the thoughts down - focused on Technoblade. Quackity wanted to kill Technoblade. 

Tubbo let him make the plans, mind drifting too far to argue on the subject. Maybe Quackity had a point. L’Manberg would’ve never ended up as it was without Technoblade, a nation torn apart and stitched back together for the umpteenth time. Things might’ve been different without his anarchy. 

Regardless of the reasons Quackity’s anger was infectious, Tubbo backhanding tears and picking up an axe.

But the execution failed. Quackity was brutally executed in Techno’s place if anything, and Tubbo had to assure him there'd be revenge in the form of another festival. He wasn’t even giving it too much thought anymore. It’d worked for Schlatt in the past, and maybe Dream did deserve to know how that agony felt. All that newfound rage had nowhere to go and Tubbo almost didn’t care who they killed, somebody just needed to hurt, even if that somebody was himself for doing something so terrible—

Finally, Tubbo couldn’t take it anymore. He headed for the hub portal, axe slipping from his fingers.

The guilt. The way he needed to hear Tommy’s voice. Even if Tommy was yelling, even if he hated Tubbo’s guts and swore to never be his friend again he just needed to know Tommy was *there*. It was eating him alive not knowing. Tearing him apart thinking Tommy was by himself and Tubbo hadn’t even checked if he was okay.

But it was too late.

Tubbo stepped through and it was L’Manberg all over again.

Smouldering wreckage. Remnants of tents and charred logs littering the craters where Tommy should’ve been. Just when Tubbo already thought he couldn’t breathe, numb with shock, he cast his gaze up - and the pillar made him gasp.

No. No he couldn’t have.

The weight of everything hitting Tubbo full force made his vision black out and his knees go weak and then he was on the ground and he was screaming. Screaming bloody murder so loud that it even cut through the ringing in his ears.

Alone. Tubbo finally knew the meaning of the word. What it could do to a person. How it truly felt.

How it made Tubbo wish it’d been him up there.

But no. He couldn’t think about that now. 

Not when the people responsible still roamed free.

///


End file.
